Epoch of the Last Blood
by JayMax
Summary: Serkan Zilas has caused desrtuction upon each city of Erian for the past ten years. Now in 1453 he is to put the largest city, Reliegh under siege. Will he succeed and overthrow an entire nation?
1. Chapter 1

**Epoch of the Last Blood**

**Chapter 1**

**Serkan Zilas carefully turned the shining glass doorknob in his dark room and slowly pulled it toward himself. He cursed at the door as it creaked noisily open. He poked his head out into the dimly lit corridor and stood motionless, listening for footsteps heading his way. Fortunately no one had heard him, exhaling a long sigh of relief he tiptoed silently in the direction of his father's bedchamber. Serkan was fed up with his father, Hurodun, King of Erian, who had been very harsh and abusive throughout his childhood. Now finally, he could be rid of him. He grabbed at the dagger he kept at his side at all times. It was not beautifully encrusted with jewels, or bits of silver and gold. The hilt was made of black leather, nothing special. The blade however was a smoothly cut specimen of obsidian with razor – sharp coiled edges. **

**He had turned the corner and was just outside his fathers' bedroom when he saw that the door had opened slightly. He peered inside and found his older brother Murad standing over his fathers' oblivious, sleeping form with a dagger held at the ready. Just then his vizier, Chandarli Pasha ambled up behind him dressed in his ridiculously large, blue nightgown with a matching nightcap. He was just about to open his mouth in horror at the scene when Serkan pounced on him, covered the gaping wide hole and shoved his head into the opening of the door. Serkan knew his brother had struck Hurodun because he had heard the blade slice down and pierce his father's heart and he felt Chandarli moan and gag beneath his hand. **

"**Sound the alarm, and bring my soldiers to me!" he whispered, and let go of the weeping man, as he sped off to do as he was bid. **

**Murad stood over his father's bed in shock. **_**I've killed him!**_** He thought. **_**I've actually killed Hurodun!**_

"**I'm king." He muttered to himself. Now he was ruler of Erian, the heir to the throne. Though his task was not yet complete, he would blame his heartless brother for the murder, and send him to the dungeon to wait for his dire execution. As if reading his thoughts, a cold voice replied,**

"**Am I next, brother?"**

**He was so locked up in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the quiet voice. He whirled around, not surprised to see Serkan creeping up behind him. Murad tried desperately to reach back and dig out the dagger still protruding from his fathers' chest, but he was not fast enough. Serkan advanced, whipping out his dagger and thrusting it deep into his brothers' unprotected stomach. **

**Murad sucked in a startled breath as Serkan sharply twisted the hilt, causing the coiled blade to painfully rearrange his organs. Tears erupted from his eyes as he looked down at his tunic, watching a waterfall of warm, damp blood trickle down, staining the hardwood floor. When he looked back up at Serkan, he saw two cold eyes laughing with delight. **

**Murad gave a choked gag as his brother pulled the dagger from his body and darkness formed all around him just before he crashed to the floor.**

**Serkan turned from the gruesome sight, where he found many faces of his army gaping at him with mixed expressions of fear and awe, just outside the door. He strode confidently out of the room, where he addressed a group of pathetic men holding their spears in a shaky salute. **

"**Remove the carcasses from the room, bar the door, and then bury the bodies somewhere outside the castle. I never want to hear about the incident that has taken place tonight, ever again. Is that understood?" he glared down at them. They all nodded vigorously. Standing up to his full height he gazed deep into the eyes of all the men standing around him. He saw pure terror in their eyes, a nervousness of the loss of their ruler. He planned to take advantage of that fact.**

"**Weak, that's what this army is. Your past King has turned you into worthless scum! It is now time for a change. I will create an undefeated, stronger Zilantine army. Under my rule we shall take complete control of the Strait and Empires of Erian. All others shall perish under my heel! Prepare for war and victory men! We will take the cities of Erian one by one." Serkan motioned to Chandarli to follow him then turned his back to the army and headed to his room. A man among the crowd threw a fist in the air and bellowed,**

"**All hail the almighty Serkan Zilas, King and Terror of all Erian!" The army banged their spears against the floor and cheered wildly as the group moved towards the room of the dead, to do as they were bid by their new King. **

**Inside his room Serkan grabbed a cloth from the bedside table, wiping off his dagger slowly while listening to the cheers erupting from the corridor, chuckling evilly to himself. **

"**I must pray to my brother, to thank him for getting the job of murdering our father over with. Ruling the empire of Erian seems to be easier than I thought." He smiled at Chandarli.**

"**Ye are a monster!" the fat vizier gasped. **

**Ignoring him, Serkan strolled slowly across his dark room then stopped at a beautifully engraved, wooden cabinet. He looked down and clasped his hands over the glass knobs and pulled the doors slowly toward his body. The large cabinet revealed a large, black suit of armor, molded just to fit his body. **

"**Help me put this on, will ye, vizier?" He grabbed at a piece of the armor, and dusting it off, the black steel shone in the moonlight. **

"**I will no, ye vermin! I shall never work for a murdering, filthy scum such as yerself. Ye can fergit it man! Yer father was a decent man, and a respected King, ye should be ashamed fer calling yerself his son." Outraged he started to turn toward the door. Serkan bounded behind him pushing him roughly to the wall with the dagger pressed up against the flabby skin of his back. Serkan clicked his tongue in disappointment at Chandarli,**

"**Are you sure you wish to make that choice? Because you never know, it could be the death of you." he confirmed his words with a sharp stab of his blade. Chandarli gave a squeal and felt warm blood trickle from where the blades tip had pierced him. The contact of the cold blade and the warm ooze made him shiver, which drove the blade in deeper.**

"**All right," he pleaded, tears coursing down his cheeks, "I'll work for ye, scum! Just dinnae hurt me anymore. A groan of relief burst from his lips as he felt the blade leave his body, and he sunk to the floor.**

"**You shall call me Lord from now on. Help me suit up, then inform the army that after they bury my pathetic family, we shall march and raid each city of Erian. Take whoever you can to build my army, all who refuse shall die." Feeling slightly muddled, Chandarli stood up from the floor and stepped gingerly toward Serkan,**

"**Which city do you wish to take first, my lord?" Serkan motioned to a large map of Erian on his wall, and threw his blood stained dagger toward it. Startled, Chandarli attempted an unnecessary duck, peeking through his eyes at the map. **

"**Rusyn." Serkan replied.**

**A misty night had fallen upon the diminutive village of Rusyn. A cold wind blustered through a cracked hut and put out the small, crackling fire in the chimney. A burly man hurriedly fed the fire with bits of timber and blew hard at the fire, choking as he sucked in the toxic fumes. His wife, Gemma lay huddled on the floor with her two children, attempting to cover them in a small wool blanket, humming a tune under her breath. Her seven year old son lay beside his younger sister, dazedly twisting his hair on one finger and fighting to keep his eyes open as he listened to his mother's song. Gemma smiled down at him and brushed his soft chestnut, brown hair out of his matching eyes. She leaned down and kissed the cinnamon colored skin on his forehead, causing him to close his eyes to reveal long black lashes almost grazing his cheeks. He smiled in content and shifted over to lay an arm across his toddler sister, Jenny and let himself fall into a hazy sleep. Gemma shivered and turned to her husband.**

"**Iris," she reached out to grab her husband's hand, "Come get warm, you are going to freeze if you stand there all night." He smiled and turned to reply when commotion reached his ears and he ushered to the door, peeking through a sizeable crack. Gemma shifted uneasily.**

"**Iris?" she whispered, "What is it?" Iris stood there only a second then hoisted his wife onto her feet then bent down to tend to the children. **

"**The city is up in flames, Gemma! A surprise raid I expect. I need you to take the children down to the underground tunnel I dug in case of emergency, take them through it and run into the woods until you find safety." He picked up Jenny and placed her in Gemma's arms, giving more instructions to follow. By this time their son was wide awake. Curious as to what was going on, he snuck over to the door and jumped in an attempt to reach the crack to see what the commotion was about, when a large bang on the door caused his to jump back in surprise. His mother hissed at him to step away from the door as he watched his father grab a baton lying in the corner. He felt his mothers arm wrap around him tightly and pull him away to the stairs leading to their only escape. His father moved to open the door, baton at the ready.**

"**Wait!" he cried, "What about--" he was cut off as the whole area around the door went up in flames. Iris cried out as his hand made contact with the flaming wood and backed away, screaming at his wife who was standing still in shocked horror. **

"**Gemma! Get those kids down stairs now!" this seemed to snap her out of her reverie and she hurriedly bustled down the stairs, with her children, dirt showering on their heads as they crawled through the muck. A deafening crash sounded from above, followed by the sound of Iris's screams silenced by the clash of a blade penetrating his flesh. At the sound tears poured from Gemma's eyes, a rage for her husband coursed through her like a lightning bolt, yet the frightened faces of her only link to Iris was the only thing that kept her from fleeing to do battle with whoever was at the door. She urged them on calmly, sliding easily through the grime. **

**Her son was the first to reach the opening at the end of the tunnel. He peered out only to find blood, and bodies scattered on the ground. There were men on horses, dressed in armor, using weapons to hit or stab the people they chased, laughing wickedly in triumph. His mother came up behind him and covered his eyes, encouraging him not to look at the disturbing scene. She picked up a cutlass lying forgotten on the ground and pushed her children towards a nearby forest. The whinnying of a horse caused them to turn their heads from their desired destination. **

**A large black horse galloped toward them through a jungle of fire, an impressive sight of evil and death. Its mane flapped gracefully against the blustery wind, while large impressive muscles bulged out of its skin. The horses' rider was totally engulfed in shining black armor, chain mail fluttering carelessly against his broad, powerful form, his helmet pointing straight in their direction. Gemma locked eyes with her predator, trying not to panic at the monster approaching. He moved swift and gracefully upon the horse, nudging its side painfully to get it to move rapidly. The knights' eyes blazed into hers with a fiery hunger to kill, determination controlling his every move. Gemma screamed and shoved her kin into the shrubbery and moved to wield her cutlass at the approaching enemy. But the knight drew forth and wielded a mace carelessly high above his head, as if it weighed no more than a buoyant feather, striking it down hard upon Gemma's skull, killing her instantly. He ushered the horse forward, running over her broken body with a sickening crunch. The knight then dropped the mace on the ground next to Gemma's body, drawing forth a sword from the scabbard at his side.**

**Jenny stood flabbergasted, staring open mouthed at her mothers' corpse lying crumpled and bloody on the ground. Tears sprouted from her eyes as she reached out and started towards the figure, not realizing that the black knight had turned around and was now galloping in her direction. Reacting with haste, her brother quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shrubbery. They scrambled through, running against the wind, twigs and pine needles poking into their skin as they urged onward, totally aware of the frightening sound of hooves beating against the ground behind them. Looking back they saw the majestic horse dodging trees and leaping over bushes with swiftness and grace that was almost admirable. The knight looked as if these obstacles didn't faze him in the slightest. He kicked at the horses' side violently, rapidly increasing his speed. Legs burning, the children raced forward, the cold chill of the night doing nothing for the hot sweat that mingled with the blood, dripping from their bodies. Jenny shrieked in fright as she turned her head back and saw the knight upon them. She continued to howl as she peered ahead and saw a ditch before her, causing her to pause and pull back in fright. Her scream was silenced when the weight of the horse's leg trampled her small body, ripping her hand away from her brother's grasp. The sword made an attempt to stab at him, missed and sliced at the child's arm, still reaching for his sister. Not realizing the ground had left his feet, he was thrown mercilessly into the depths of a muddy ditch. The knight and his steed came to an abrupt stop, barely staying balanced on the edge. The horse whinnied and backed up, bucking wildly in fright. As soon as the horse had settled, the knight jumped down off his horse and removed his helmet. Serkan stared down into the darkness, smiling wickedly in triumph of the annihilation of his victims. He mounted his horse after a time and rode off into the night to join his army.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Four majestic horses trotted through the forest, toward the castle of Releigh, pulling behind them a white carriage. The coach shivered against the wind, and gathered his cloak tightly around him. He turned and checked on the family within his carriage, seeing the father amble up to take a seat beside him and drape a blanket around his shoulders. **

"**Thank you kindly, Preacher Brookes. My body was about to freeze to death out here. Not a very peaceful night. Is the family quite warm?" The Preacher beside him took the reins from his icy fingers and smiled. **

"**Please, call me Frank. And yes thank you, they are fast asleep back there." The coachman smiled in content, with an odd sense of comfort coming from the man.**

"**So where are you from?" he asked, turning his head to Frank.**

"**England," Frank replied. "I came to visit an old friend in Raleigh. I'm also looking into taking over the job of preacher at Hagia Sophia for awhile."**

"**Hagia Sophia eh? Beautiful church, that one is. And you brought your lovely wife and daughter with you? They will absolutely love it in Reliegh, such a beautiful city. How was the boat ride over?" the coachman asked, rubbing his hands together as they crossed a wooden bridge over a deep mud covered ditch. **

"**Very satisfactory indeed, thank you." The preacher said, looking ahead distractedly. The coachman squinted in the direction Frank was looking, and saw a dark, undistinguished figure in the bushes. **

"**Do you see what I see sire?" The coachman stared in shock as they came closer. The horses became rowdy and nervous, twitching slightly, as the preacher brought them to a halt and jumped from the carriage. Awakened by the whinnying Franks wife Maya poked her head out the window,**

"**What is it Frank?" she asked nervously, holding her curious, seven year old daughter back from escaping the carriage. **

"**Stay there, dear." He warned her and crept down to crouch near the figure, picking it up gingerly. Behind him the coachman peered over his shoulder, trying to see the object the preacher clutched in the warmth of his arms.**

"**What is it sire? What is wrong?" **

**From Frank's eyes sprouted tears and his shoulders shook in grief. In his arms he held a child, younger than his daughter, bones crushed, and skin soaked in blood. He prayed silently to himself and turned his kneeling body to the coachman, holding up the child for him to see. **

"**Who could have had the twisted mind to do such a thing to a poor innocent child?" the coachman shuddered at the sight and crossed himself, kneeling next to the preacher and placing a not so reassuring hand upon his shoulder. **

"**It's a terrible thing, but many men could have such a mind to do something like this. It isn't fair, but it's life." He whispered morosely, turning away from the gruesome sight. He took his cloak from his shoulders and placed it over the body, adjusting Franks' arms so he was able to wrap it snugly around her. Frank wiped his eyes and carried the girl's body over to the carriage, placing her on the front seat.**

"**She deserves a proper burial, poor girl. She shall lie forever in the peaceful temple of Hagia Sophia. I wonder where she was from and if she was with anyone at the time of the incident. Right, we must spread out and see if there are others, we cannot leave if there is a survivor. Then we shall leave for Releigh. Maya! Bring the lantern quickly dear and help us look around." he called. Maya slid out of the carriage, warning her child to stay put, and picked up her skirts, ushering off in the direction of the two men. **

**The young girl in the carriage stared curiously at the wrapped figure in the driver's seat, feeling a chill run through her spine. Fear clawing at her heart at the thought of what might've happened to it; she turned away from the body and opened the door to the carriage, jumping to the ground in a heap. Dusting herself off, she wandered a few steps away from the carriage and picked up a purple pebble lying amongst broken twigs and crushed leaves. She brushed the mud from it, feeling the cold, smooth surface beneath her finger tips. Walking onto the bridge, she balanced the rock in her hand, staring down into the darkness of the ditch. She closed her eyes and imagined she was a beautiful princess, like the ones in her mother's stories, whose brave knight had died perilously in a battle for her, and this ditch was his grave, the remains of the battlefield he had fought on. The rock between her palms represented her token of love and appreciation, which she would send down to him, wishing he would somehow arise from the dead, and carry her off into the depths of the night. **

**She opened her hands and watched the rock slide into the make believe grave. Sighing she was about to turn away to sit back into the warmth of the carriage when a small groan of pain reached her ears. She gripped the railing of the bridge in surprise and squinted down into the mud. **

**The trio further away searched for what seemed like hours, checking behind each tree, bush, and rock. Frank held the lantern high and scanned the forest ahead of him. Seeing nothing, he sighed in exhaustion.**

"**I think it's time to go back, I don't think we are going to find anything else here tonight." he muttered to his companions. They gave one last look in the clearing when they suddenly heard a shout in the forest. **

"**Mother, Father! Come quick, I think someone is down here!" Frank jumped into a sprint at the sound of his daughters voice, not waiting for his friends to catch up. He got there just in time to see his daughter gingerly attempting to climb down into the ditch. Grabbing her, he hoisted her up in his arms and took her a step away from the edge. Crouching down so he could reach her height he looked into her eyes and shook her gently.**

"**You say you saw something honey?" he tried to look at her, yet she was staring worriedly into the ditch muttering,**

"**I threw a rock down there and somebody moaned, I can't see him but I swear I heard him."**

**Throwing his coat to the side, Frank ushered his daughter over to where Maya was standing. Then, peering into the ditch he held out his hand to the coachman.**

"**Grab some rope and a lantern, please sir, and hoist me down." He never tore his eyes away from the sight, as he waited for the man to grab the supplies from the carriage and run to where he was standing. Looping the rope securely around his waist, he held both the rope and the lantern at the ready. Waiting until the coachman had a good grip on the rope he slowly made his way down the hill, tripping and sliding continuously in the mud. Finally, he made it to the bottom, waving his companions, who were peering over the edge with expressions of worry on their faces. Turning around he nearly dropped the lantern in shock, at what lied now in the filth. He crouched down next to the figure soaked in blood and muck and held the light up to its face. He was rewarded at the sight of fog that escaped from the mouth of the broken mass, and the slow rise and fall of its chest. **

**Up above, the coachman waited nervously at what was taking the preacher so long to come back up. Looking back he saw Maya retreating to put her arguing daughter back into the carriage, trying not to look at the body lying on his seat. He then stared at the stars for quite some time, almost not feeling the tug of the rope signaling him to pull the preacher up. Waking from his reverie, he pulled with all of his might, surprised to feel extra weight had been added. After some time he saw the face of the preacher reappear over the edge and heaved a sigh of relief. **

"**Oh thank goodness you are alright. Find anything sir?"**

**Frank adjusted himself so he could pass the cold, muddy figure over to the coachman, and heaved himself over the edge. The coachman stared in surprise at the unconscious form of a young boy in his arms. Frank took the blanket that had fallen from the coachman's shoulder while he grabbed he unconscious form.**

"**He isn't shivering anymore which is quite dangerous. We must get to Reliegh immediately. Drive us there as quickly as you can, please." They ran hastily to the carriage, the coachman hopping up to take the reins while Frank secured his patient into the warmth of the blanket, rubbing his hands across the body furiously in an attempt to get the blood flowing again. His wife and daughter helped to tend to the patient in any way they could. Lying him down on the bench, Frank returned to the coachman's side, while Maya scanned the boy for any injuries. Her daughter sat next to the boy's head, lightly stroking his dark, mud stained hair. She reached to grab his hand which was clenched in a desperate attempt to hold on to life, it seemed. Then her hand came in contact with something within the boys grasp. Opening his fingers slowly, she saw her small purple stone lying in the center of his palm. **

**Chandarli tiptoed cautiously through the long narrow corridors of Erian's darkest castle, with a knife clutched in his hand. He shivered in anticipation as he eyed Serkan's bedroom chamber. He inched toward it, sweating profusely and cursing under his breath as his feet betrayed him causing the floor to creak loudly under his weight. He stopped for a moment to see if anyone had discovered his position. Blowing out a sigh of relief, he placed an insecure hand upon the door knob and turned it slowly. He heard a click on the other side and gently pushed the door open just enough to peek his head through. Seeing the new Lord Serkan asleep in his bed caused him to smile ruefully and inch the door open wider. The light from the hall disrupted Serkans sleep and he snorted loudly, causing Chandarli to jump in fright. He froze until Serkan dozed lazily back into a peaceful sleep. Shutting the door quietly he moved toward his unsuspecting victim, gripping the hilt of his knife in both hands, ready to bring it down with punishing force. The fat vizier was not swift enough though, he realized when a moment later, Serkan had pounced upon him, gripping his wrist and turning it so the point rested painfully upon his racing heart. He stared wide eyed into the face of the devil, tears dripping from the corners of his eye sockets.**

"**A kitchen knife, vizier? Come along now, you could have done a much better job than that," Serkan snickered. "By the way, terrible job entering the room. You never could be pegged to be an assassin." Chandarli shut his eyes tight, and squeaked between each breath. **

"**Please, don't hurt me…" he whimpered, pleadingly. Serkan landed a sharp smack across his face and shook him by his collar viciously.**

"**The nerve of you," he growled, "You tried to assassinate me, you fool. I'd have to be a bigger blockhead than you, to not hurt you after a crime like that. In fact, I am going to do worse than hurt you my vizier, much worse." With that he gripped the man in a headlock, and dragged him away from the room, causing him to spit and drool as they stomped through the corridor. **

**Chandarli attempted a scream as he figured out he was being taken to Serkan's torture chamber, and wiggled in panic, but his attempts were useless against the indestructible grip of his captor. He gaped at the dusty, caged door being opened by a heavily armed man, as they approached. Grabbing a torch on the wall, the burly guard led them down cold concrete steps backed up against the wall. As they moved down the spiral steps, the sound of tortured screams reached their ears, causing Chandarli to start struggling in panic again, only to be stopped by a sharp squeeze around his throat from Serkan. The wailing and moaning after the sound of clashing weapons gave him a sick, morose feeling in the pit of his stomach. The only thing that kept him from puking was the tight clasp of Serkans arm pinching his esophagus. **

**Coming to the bottom of the stairway, they watched as people were whipped, chained, and beaten mercilessly. The sound of hard weapons colliding with bruised flesh, echoed through their ears, followed by the screech of the victim. Some people were hooked up to machines constructed to cause slow, painful death. Bones were broken, and stretched under the powerful strength of the machines, and screams that seemed to bounce off the very atmosphere of the universe would never be heard from the outside. It was a place of inescapable death. Men were hung with their arms behind their backs and weights were tied to their legs, in a strappado, and were hoisted violently up into the air. On the floor he noticed there were trap doors holding people prisoner. Some were filled with rising water, and muffled screams and gurgles sounded from beneath his feet. Others were wrestled onto racks, and tied limbs were ripped off their body. Rape and other forms of sexual abuse were used in the room of utter despair, causing them to hide their eyes from the traumatic scene. **

**Chandarli nearly fainted at the sight of people reaching their hands out to him, screaming for him to help them. They begged their captors for mercy, wishing to die, but they were always ignored, as if they weren't even human. The cruelty from the executioners was almost normal to them, which was terrifying to the vizier. He dearly wished he wasn't down here and immediately regretted his decision to try and take Serkan's life. He wished he could breathe, and plead to his unforgiving master. The vizier's thoughts were interrupted as he was thrown roughly down onto a large wooden table and bound by chains. Serkan kneeled heavily upon the board, scowling down at the captive, and spit in his face in disgust. **

"**Now you may plead, worthless dolt." Chandarli gasped in surprise as the machine started to pull at his arms slowly. The chains on his wrists cut off his circulation and tugged them out beside him. He was stretched to his full length after a moment, but the machine kept pulling, slowly but surely. He felt something crack in his arm, and wept violently in pain. **

"**Please!" he wailed. "I am sorry sire, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me! You destroyed Rusyn bravely, and I shall help you conquer all of Erian if you give me just one last chance. Please, you won't be sorry! I promise!" Serkan chuckled as another pop sounded from the viziers arm. He nodded at the guard to stop the machine where it was and bent down to face his captive.**

"**How do I know that I have your word?" he whispered. Chandarli heaved a sigh of relief.**

"**I swear on my mother's grave sire. I will repent every day, for the rest of my life, if you wish it." Serkan scratched his head for a moment and considered this. After awhile he smiled wickedly down at his victim.**

"**Alright," he nodded at the guard to reboot the machine. "You shall remain loyal to me for the rest of your days, vizier. If anything like this ever happens again, I won't be so merciful. But before I let you go, let's have some fun, shall we?" The machine pulled harder at his limbs and the vizier screamed, knowing he was in for a long night. **

**Frank paced up and down the blue walls of the infirmary, eyes never leaving the child's face as the doctors of Reliegh worked feverishly on their patient. The child lay still amid the pain in his arm as the deep slash from the knights sword was stitched tight. The heavy blood flow had subsided, and the dried blood and mud was dabbed away lightly with a wet cloth. The child winced in pain in his unconscious state, and started to shiver violently. A nurse hastily brought warm blankets, tucking them snugly around the body. **

"**Tis a shame what can happen to a child these days, the world can be a cruel place." A large warm hand was gently placed upon the preachers shoulder. He turned to find his friend, the king of Reliegh, Cornelius smiling down at him. **

"**Aye my Lord, it's a shame we had to meet again under such conditions." The preacher sighed morosely, looking back at the boy he had rescued. "I am sad we could not save his companion as well," he turned to look at the shape of Jenny, covered by a white sheet, draped securely around her small body. Cornelius turned to where the preacher was looking and shook his head.**

"**You did an honorable thing, sir. You must not feel guilt for the loss of a life. You know as well as I do that it was the will of the Gods to take her when they thought it was time."**

**Frank nodded silently at his friends words, looking back at the young boy shaking his head from side to side in a restless sleep. He dreaded having to see the boy wake up and recall the events of the night before, and slipped away into the lazy dawn, to clear his head. He strolled through the castle ending up outside where he took an enormous gulp of fresh air. Walking through the orchards, he saw a summer sky matching the colors of the ripening fruits in the trees. Daydreaming caused him to lose all conscious thought, and before he snapped out of his reverie, his body was taking him to the church, Hagia Sophia. He walked slowly down the isle of smooth rock, running his hands across the benches on either side of him, stopping in front of a great tapestry of the sky, with a large cross hanging in the center of it. Crossing himself, he kneeled down before it and silently prayed for what seemed like hours. He prayed for the boy cooped up in the castles infirmary, hoping that his life would be spared, wishing his death be a peaceful fate. He prayed for the soul of the poor girl that didn't live to see such a beautiful morning of which he had graciously seen. Prayers floated through his head, all bringing him a sense of peace, content and forgiveness. He jumped lightly in surprise when he felt the presence of someone beside him. He turned to see his daughter kneeling beside him silently, golden hair brushed back behind her in a long, silken braid and blue eyes closed gently in prayer. In her clasped hands she held her violet stone, rubbing it between her palms. After a moment she opened her eyes and smiled at her father, standing up, so that she was eye level with him. **

"**He'll be alright," she whispered and reached over to hug him. With that she skipped off in the direction of the castle, leaving him with a feeling of joy and pride he felt whenever he looked upon his daughter. **


End file.
